


Escape

by MarshmallowMcGonagall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror office, Aurors, Autumn of 1996, Death, Death Eaters, F/M, Grief, Grimmauld Place, HBP era, Halloween, Heavy Angst, Ministry of Magic, Muggles, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Spinner's End
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowMcGonagall/pseuds/MarshmallowMcGonagall
Summary: With the Ministry of Magic finally admitting that Voldemort has returned, the Aurors are placed on guard duty to protect those most at risk from the Death Eaters who continue to evade capture. On the night of Halloween, Tonks and Dawlish find themselves outnumbered, and a masked ally is no guarantee of getting out alive.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Escape

Waiting.

Always waiting.

The Muggles would go to their windows thinking that pulling the curtains aside a fraction would go unnoticed. The Aurors guarding them stood uncomfortably still just inside the shadows, the hoods of their cloaks pulled up. The sense of unease slinking through the air only increasing as the temperature dropped and the ground began to sparkle with the beginnings of frost.

Tonks glanced at Dawlish whose mouth pulled up in a tight smile. Nothing they did showed evidence of Death Eaters in the vicinity. There had been no signs of magic at all beyond their own. And still, neither could shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Even earlier in the night, when Tonks and Dawlish followed the family while they were out trick or treating, there wasn’t the same unease in the air. The laughter of children and adults in the village as jokes were told and sweets handed out was a magic untainted. But as midnight approached, something else lingered in the darkness.

They both checked the wards and protections several times over, not questioning the other when they knew the first assessment had been correct, but unable to let go of the idea that maybe one more check would reveal something. 

Since Scrimgeour had taken over from Fudge as Minister for Magic, and Robards had taken over as Head of the Auror Office, those known to be at risk had been given a higher level of protection. With Voldemort’s numbers growing and the Ministry’s Aurors spread thin, there was barely a week which went by without a murder.

The cottage was a modern renovation which always unnerved Tonks. The cracks were what showed the weaknesses and the property was all smooth plaster. Each light a precise glow of the electric bulb. There were murmurs around the Auror Office of the fraught discussions Robards had with his sister. His desperate pleas that she understand the risks. No matter what anyone told her, she refused to leave the cottage for a safehouse. She had pointed to the Muggle alarm system and shining metal locks on the doors when introduced to the Aurors charged with protecting her family. Her brother’s world might have their methods, but she had her own. The best money could buy, newly installed over the summer. Robards had taken the Aurors aside after some weeks and told them to just go along with whatever his sister requested, even if that meant not being in the property, so long as they stood guard outside. 

Moody was the one who broke the news to Robards that the Fidelius Charm would be pointless. The conversation was one which caused the rare sensation of Moody having to retreat to his office afterwards, allowing only Kingsley to come in. The debate over Portkeys was considerably shorter. The risk of Death Eaters being able to find safe locations with them was too much. 

Tonks and Dawlish had completed another sweep of the grounds surrounding the cottage when they both looked up. For a moment, there was the brief surprise that it was snowing. White flakes drifting through the night air around them. Tonks held her hand out.

“Ash,” she said. “This is ash.” 

“But they don’t have a fire,” said Dawlish, looking around the fields where the cottage sat upon the edges of the village.

“They’ve forced a Floo connection!”

Tonks was already running to the front door as plumes of green-tinged smoke billowed out around the edges of the capped chimney. Dawlish followed at a jog, aiming hexes at the window and ducking when they bounced off. There was only one way in.

She grasped the door handle and there was the rumble of the blocked fireplace being blown apart. The handle wouldn’t give.

“Alohomora,” said Tonks.

The lock clicked and she turned the handle, pushing the door open.

It was a requirement that Aurors study the floor plans for each property being guarded. Tonks didn’t have to think twice about where she was running because she was following the screams. The electricity had been cut and the glow of Lumos charms bled out into the hallway.

Dawlish grabbed her arm.

“What?” 

“The kids—the kids have to be in bed.” He glanced at the lounge door which was ajar, smoke and dust billowing through the gap. Screams and jeering in its wake. “You get them out, I’ll hold off the Death Eaters for as long as I can.”

She grabbed his hand. They both squeezed.

There was no time.

There was no time and as if torture had distorted the air they were drenched in sounds of agony and panic. Of desperation and begging. Of no doubt that all which mattered in the world came down to saving that which was treasured above all else. 

Their cloaks whipping around them as if they were winged creatures caught in a trap, they began to run again. Down the hallway, Tonks swerved, grabbed the bannister, and took the stairs two at a time. Rabastan’s voice slipped like oil through the darkness and she heard Dawlish yell back. There was a boom of laughter and it was as though she had plunged through ice. Dolohov was here.

A metallic smell swept around her and the air wavered for a moment. The Death Eaters had broken through the wards. She tried to send her Patronus and it faded feet from her amongst the toys scattered across the floor. They’d already put their own wards in place.

Her fingers flexed around her wand.

The baby’s room was nearest.

Earlier that day before the sun had risen, Tonks snuck into the castle and down into the dungeons and Snape’s quarters. They had a couple of hours before he needed to prepare for his day’s classes and she could collapse in his bed for a few hours before sneaking back out. He watched her stare at the fire as she recounted what she had either forgotten she had told him already or needed to say aloud again to try and make sense of it. The Muggle didn’t want protection for her family. Didn’t want anything to do with her Muggleborn brother’s world. With them. Snape was forcibly reminded of Petunia Evans. Dursley, he reminded himself a moment later. 

Snape cleared a path through the rubble in the lounge and made for the hallway. It didn’t take much encouragement for Dolohov and Rabastan to stay with the mother and Dawlish while he searched the cottage.

“You can handle an Auror and a couple of kids, can’t you?” said Rabastan, with a laugh which couldn’t quite cover the muffled sounds from across the room.

“Merlin forbid you help,” said Snape. “Anyway, the police and fire service will be here soon.” He went over to the alarm panel near the window and pressed a couple of the buttons. “I’m still not convinced that you cut the electricity in time.”

Rabastan swore at him. None of the Death Eaters were quite comfortable with the ease that Snape had, not simply as a Half-blood, but as one raised in the Muggle world. It was a tension Snape was relying on. He needed to search the cottage alone. Tonks was outnumbered and his chances of saving her and children were slipping away with each passing minute.

“He knows you don’t want me having all the fun,” said Dolohov, jabbing Rabastan with his elbow. 

A scream slipped past a gag only to be twisted into something worse at Rabastan’s muttering of, “Crucio.”

Snape gave a small laugh, pushed the emergency button on the alarm in the faint hope there might be a back-up battery system, and walked out of the room.

A scarf had been thrown carelessly over the bottom of the bannister, a hat and pair of gloves on the step below. Snape kicked a pumpkin shaped basket out of his way and went up the staircase flanked on one side by a wall covered in Muggle photos and paintings.

He stepped onto the landing and cast a Homenum Revelio. There were two doors which glowed, one stronger than the other, and on different sides of the landing. The lights glanced off the window which stretched out in front of him on the wall opposite. There should have been fields, and instead there were rainbows trapped in the stained glass. He walked towards the weaker glow which was already fading.

He looked down the hallway, casting a Lumos before carefully pushing the bedroom door open. He couldn’t help but think of a story Narcissa used to tell at dinner parties, of when Draco was a toddler and slept through a potions mishap Lucius caused. A mishap which Narcissa didn’t sleep through, and resulted in part of the west wing requiring extensive reconstruction while the potions lab was relocated to the east wing and far away from the bedrooms.

Snape cast a Silencing Charm on the toddler as well as a charm which would mean they heard nothing. Anything to try and protect them. Because he still couldn’t guarantee saving them. Gently lifting the blanket and putting it at the end of the bed, Snape picked up the toddler whose sleepsuit was covered in smiling ghosts. There was a small rabbit clutched in their hand, and they snuggled against Snape’s shoulder, still sound asleep, unbothered by the dusty and cold fabric of his cloak and Death Eater robes. He could remember holding Draco like this. Draco who was Marked and attempting to do the Dark Lord’s bidding. Carrying the toddler in both arms, Snape left the bedroom and went back out onto the landing, pausing until he was certain he heard Rabastan and Dolohov were still in the lounge. He tried not to think of the sounds which accompanied their laughter and jeering as he walked towards the door which glowed when he cast another Homenum Revelio.

Tonks ran into the nursery, and instead of a cot, there was a desk. The changing table gone, replaced by bookcases. Where there had been a rocking chair, there was a filing cabinet. She spun on her heel and ran back out into the hall. She could hear the baby’s hiccoughing wail. Casting a Homenum Revelio, she saw the doors at each end of the landing glow. She ran towards the one which was a fraction more faint. 

The baby was wearing a sleepsuit covered in smiling ghosts, and the blanket had been kicked aside. Tonks cast a Silencing Charm and a charm which meant the baby wouldn’t hear what the Death Eaters were doing. It was a method the Aurors and the Order were used to. Children and adults alike, charmed to stop themselves giving away a location. It rarely worked with adults and older children to cast a charm which rendered them unable to hear. They still knew. And despite their own silent screams, the adults knew what it meant to be a witness. Sometimes the children did, too. Sometimes the kindest thing was to Stupefy a person until they were somewhere safe. As Tonks held the baby in her arms, she longed to be able to place even the most gentle Sleeping Charm upon them, but any charm of its ilk carried too much risk with young children.

Tonks was about to leave the bedroom when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She shut the door. There was no lock she could enchant. She walked backwards until she was standing against the cot. The glow of a Homenum Revelio surrounded her. She cast a shield around herself and the baby. The footsteps faded away across the landing. She could feel the baby’s wails had settled, from exhaustion if nothing else. Glancing down, she saw the comforter held tight in the baby’s fist and the tired eyes which shone in the light of the shield. Swaying gently, she looked around the room. Scenarios flashing through her mind like a zoetrope. Old training sessions, report files, previous raids, long discussions late into the night in Moody and Kingsley’s living room when a handful of Aurors would gather for debriefs with Firewhisky. 

She shouldn’t have been able to hear the second hand of the nearby clock as it ticked past with each relentless second. Maybe she was imagining the ticking sound. She wasn’t imagining the passing seconds. If she warded the room, she might not escape the rubble they would cause trying to get to her. There was no visible fireplace. The walls all smooth plaster. She could try smashing the window and casting a Cushioning Charm on the ground but knew they would get her before she was on her feet again. Knew their wards would stop her Apparating or using a Portkey, too.

And then there was the toddler. 

Someone had already gone to the toddler.

And there was no way out.

She listened to chaos below and searched for the one voice she thought she might be able to discern after years of fighting together, and she reminded herself that silence was no promise of death.

“Dawlish?” she whispered. “John?”

The glow of a Homenum Revelio surrounded her and bled under the edge of the door. Footsteps on the landing were getting closer.

She wiped the baby’s face with the edge of her cloak. “I promise you, I’ll do my best.”

The door handle began to turn and the brightness of her shield increased. 

Snape felt the toddler sigh, their warm breath drifting across his neck and beneath his mask. Dawlish had been in no state to withstand the brief intrusion of Legilimency while Dolohov and Rabastan were distracted. In no state to try and confuse the memories presented. The glow of the Homenum Revelio had faded and Snape turned the handle then pushed the door open.

She was standing in front of a cot, a baby in her arms and wand in hand. The strength of her shield caused her cloak to flutter and cast a stark white light around her and the baby.

The toddler had their head on Snape’s shoulder, snuggled against him as he carried their weight on one arm. He held his wand and Death Eater mask in his other hand.

Tonks lowered her shield, slipped her wand into her other hand, and rubbed the baby’s back.

“They’re Silenced and can’t hear what’s going on,” said Snape, inclining his head towards the toddler.

“Same here,” said Tonks. Small hands, tired and confused, grasped at her cloak and she began to sway again. His name fell from her lips in a whisper.

He put his mask back on and crossed the room, gently lifting the toddler away from himself. They began to stir and looked up at Snape. They were unperturbed by the intricate embossed metal after their day of Halloween parties, and evening trick-or-treating, where many were dressed in cloaks and masks. They pulled at their ears and turned around, lighting up when they saw Tonks. Snape put the toddler down gently, and Tonks took their hand. Snape and Tonks watched them wonder where their voice had gone and why the world was so quiet as they pawed at their mouth. Tonks squeezed their hand.

“We need to fight,” said Snape, charming Tonks’s cloak to sweep around the toddler.

Tonks nodded.

She held the baby closer, squeezed the toddler’s hand, and met the dark gaze which was all the mask surrendered of him. Even his hands were covered, the black leather disappearing into his robes. Her grip on her wand tightened.

“You cannot afford to hold back,” he said.

She nodded again.

Despite holding the baby, she cast a strong shield without any trouble. In protecting herself and the children from debris, she illuminated the room with a bright white light. Every detail of his mask was thrown into stark relief.

He held up three fingers and lowered them one at a time.

He began to wreck the room and she began to shout at him. He responded in kind. Words hurled at each other which every Auror and Death Eater had hurled across the battlefields of rooms, streets, pursuits. 

Books fell from shelves and the glass in the mirror shattered. She shouted every accusation she suspected of what was happening beneath them. He returned fire with attacks on her techniques. On her belief she could save anyone. On how he would spare her a drawn out death. The cot splintered and the room reverberated with the swirling chaos. Different coloured lights pulsed around her shield as hex chased hex. The toddler held her hand and wrapped their other arm around her leg, squishing their rabbit against her as they trod on her foot. The baby was blinking heavily, exhausted by crying and oblivious to the racket, they grasped at Tonks’s robes and rubbed their face against her cloak, the lights around them like a toy meant to soothe. The rocking chair smashed to pieces and he held up three fingers again. Lowered them one at a time until he was holding up one finger which he brought to where his mouth would be behind the mask. They both went silent and the chest of drawers toppled over with the drawers smashing back into the frame.

She was dead.

She lowered her shield and he lowered his wand.

Chests heaving, they stared at each other. 

The whole cottage fell silent.

“Aren’t you done?” came Rabastan’s shout from the bottom of the stairs. “We’re ready to Bombarda the place.”

Snape’s gloved hand went to Tonks's cheek and she leant against the finely stitched leather. He turned his head towards the door.

“I heard something moving,” Snape called back. “Might be a pet but I want to be sure. I’ll be down in a moment.”

“Hurry up,” shouted Dolohov. “Narcissa said she’d got the elves to make that chocolate tart of hers.”

“And don’t you love a tart,” Snape called back. “Just hold on.”

Dolohov swore loudly and Rabastan laughed before yelling, “We’ll be outside.” The front door opened and the sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel faded away.

Snape turned back to meet Tonks’s gaze. The moonlight glanced off the broken glass and shattered mirror throwing shards of silver across the walls and cutting lines across her face. He took his hand from her.

The baby was half-asleep and grasped more tightly onto Tonks’s robes. She could feel the rise and fall of the toddler’s body with steady breaths, both their arms wrapped around her leg, the soft pressure of where the rabbit was held against her.

“How do we get out?” she asked, her gaze darting around the room again, as if there was some escape route she had missed. “Even if the wards weren't up I couldn’t risk trying to Side-Along both children.” 

“Portkey.”

“Severus, there’s no way I can hide the light from a Portus. Even if we got out in time, it would give you away.”

“Don’t you carry a prepared Portkey anymore?”

“Scrimgeour stopped letting us carry them when he took over.” 

Snape swore then took a tiny bundle of cloth from a pocket in his robes. He placed the black pouch in the palm of Tonks’s hand, holding it there until she had it firmly in her grip alongside her wand. His fingers lingered on her for the briefest moment.

“There’s a Galleon inside,” he said. “It’s already charmed and will take you to Spinner’s End when you touch it.” 

She didn’t want to ask why he carried one. She didn’t need to. Portkeys were perfect for when people were too injured to Apparate.

He was already walking away.

There was no more time.

There was never enough time.

She was dead and he was a Death Eater.

He stopped in the doorway and glanced back. “I will do what I can to ensure the Bombardas start at the other side of the cottage.”

He strode away, and a moment later he was going down the stairs. She could hear him calling out to Dolohov and Rabastan that the noise and movement was just wreckage which continued to fall apart. There were sirens in the distance.

She released the charm on her cloak and gently took her leg from the toddler’s grasp, then sat down on the floor, knowing she couldn’t afford mistakes as she lifted up the toddler so they sat astride one of her legs and she lowered the baby so they sat astride her other leg. The toddler kept peering around and was quietly chewing the rabbit’s ear. The baby seemed content with the darkness around them. Sleeping Charms were too risky on young children and she held them as close to her as she could while she felt the outline of the Galleon and tugged on the strings of the pouch.

Then a Bombarda hit the cottage. Her hands grasped her wand and the cotton.

The baby began to wriggle and another Bombarda shook the entire room. The toddler yanked on her cloak, and the fixings slammed against her throat. Stones were tumbling and wood groaned as beams and joists creaked in warning of walls about to collapse. The crunch of plaster and ripping of wallpaper raced after one another. 

The cold Galleon slipped from the pouch to her hand and she grasped it tight as another Bombarda reverberated through her body. She held the squirming children against her, biting her tongue when the violent yank of the Portkey pulled inside her. She held onto the two hopes that the mission wouldn’t be a complete failure as the floor gave way and the world became a dark storm where all she could do was hold on.

Slamming down onto the cobbles, a jarring bolt of pain seared up her spine. Small stones and dust rained down around her. Swallowing a mouthful of blood, she cast a Lumos and checked the children. The toddler tried to stand then threw up over themself. Tonks cleaned them up with a flick of her wand and held them gently against her. The baby’s body began to judder with small uncertain cries. The night air was bitter and the children were only in nappies and sleepsuits. Tonks leant down and rested her head gently against the baby’s.

They were alive.

She wanted words and could only give a hiccoughing cry herself. The baby grabbed at her face, their comforter brushing against her cheek.

“We have to do that again, okay?” She rubbed the Galleon between her fingers and grasped her wand, the weight of the baby and the toddler against her arms. “Just one more time.” 

Screwing up her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. There were clouds hovering on the edges of the clear skies above Spinner’s End, and the moonlight was a blanket of burnished silver, the beginnings of frost forming across the cobbles like a quilt. Their breaths misted up in front of them and she began to enchant the Galleon into a Portkey again. The glow of the charm lit up the children’s faces. Both tried to grab for the Galleon and she had to extend her arms while still keeping the children close. The charm completed, she arranged the baby and toddler on her lap with as much care as she could.

“Portus.”

And they left Spinner’s End behind.

The earth was a softer landing than the cobbles and still Tonks took a moment getting her breath back. There were tree roots beneath her and she was running out of places to ache. She lifted the charms on the children, then cast a Lumos. The return of sound and their voices startled them back into silence.

Both the baby and the toddler had thrown up. Tonks vanished the mess, looked at the blotchy cheeks and red noses, and cast a warming charm. The darkness beneath the trees was different and the toddler looked around, pointing up. The cottage had been surrounded by trees, thought Tonks. After several attempts at maneuvering, she managed to slip the pouch and Galleon into a pocket of her robes, then very slowly she stood up, glad there was a tree to lean against as her feet sunk into the earth. The bark digging into her back, she closed her eyes for the briefest moment, and said, “Nox.”

Then she began to walk. Slow steps which hesitated as she felt her way over and around the roots which stretched out into the grass. Without thinking, she murmured to the children in hushed tones about the magic which ran deep into the earth beneath them. Why so many owls inhabited the woods. How the first time she went through the gate she tripped and Savage helped her up while Proudfoot and Dawlish—

Wrists, elbows, shoulders. She began to burn. Aches settling along muscles which couldn't yet know rest. And she hadn't fired a single hex.

They were alone as far as she could tell and when her foot sunk into a puddle, she shook the water off her boot and looked around. The toddler rested their cheek against hers and she cast another warming charm. The baby was still somewhat wrapped up in her cloak but the toddler kept looking around with each burst of energy they got and that side of her cloak had long since flowed out behind her.

She could see the metal arch at the corner of the large London park, rusting and tucked away, a newer entrance for Muggles barely visible in the distance. She blinked away the dust in her eyes.

She glanced at the toddler. “Please tell me you can still see magic.”

“Mama,” said the toddler. “Mama.”

“We’re going to find the person who loves your mama—loved your mama.” The arch was getting closer but each step felt like wading through rising mud. “Who loves you both, very, very much.”

“Mama, mama, mama.” The word came like a litany. Panicked and confused. Cherished and perturbed.

“Your mama did her best.” 

Did.

Did.

It was one of the words which always tasted foulest on her tongue. Too often, as the months had gone on, Aurors spoke of how people did. Of people who would never get to do something present again.

She tried again to reconcile that even Robards couldn't convince his sister of the danger she was in. Danger which meant a world which wasn't meant to exist. Tonks could remember the last time she was in his office. One wall covered with the profiles of everyone under guard. The room was only accessible to those on protection duty. And Tonks had watched, while he briefed her and Dawlish, how often Robards's gaze drifted to the photo of a cottage surrounded by trees. Rain fell constantly in the photo. The parchment pinned beside listed the essentials. At the top read: Muggle, Uncooperative.

"I lost my sister when I went to Hogwarts," said Robards, when Tonks’s gaze lingered on the photo. "She's very angry that she's in danger because of me. Doesn't believe Voldemort targets Muggles who aren't in some way connected to our world."

Tonks nodded and glanced at Dawlish who looked troubled. It wasn't an attitude the Aurors were unused to but it increased the risks if an attack happened. People who didn’t believe magic should be able to harm them often didn’t believe it could help them, either.

"Protect her and the children as you would any family," he said. 

"Yes, Sir," said Tonks and Dawlish in unison.

There was the smallest release of tension which nearly caused Tonks to buckle when she saw the toddler, for all their distress, notice the archway which was the Ministry entrance used solely by the Aurors. The closer they got, the more the rusting metal gave way to an arch of stone. There was no door but a gateway of magic, and while Tonks didn’t doubt the baby, she wondered whether the toddler would still be able to see it. Still be able to pass through, even with being carried by someone of magic blood.

The barrier glowed with a swirling sheen of colours. The wards and protections which admitted only a few to what lay beyond. There was a faint buzz of noise, an indistinguishable chattering that was interspersed with the flares in the magic protecting the entrance. Most people in the Ministry accessed the Auror Offices through the main corridors. But the archway led to the part of the Auror Offices only Aurors had access to, with few exceptions.

Tonks held the children tighter and walked through the barrier. All three of them baulked briefly at the light of the torches which lined the large foyer. The flames flared the way they always did when the barrier was crossed, and the expanse of marble glowed beneath Tonks’s feet. The talking around her ceased but she kept walking. The walls were lined with tiles which looked as though the Avada had been captured within the ceramic. She had never been able to decide whether it was bad taste or a reminder of what they couldn’t afford to forget. Her cloak flowing behind her, she adjusted her hold on the toddler so that they were on her hip, and on the baby so that they could rest their head fully on her shoulder.

As if time was catching up with itself, there was an explosion of noise and people were scrambling to walk beside her. There were shouts to get healers. Shouts to get Moody and Kingsley. No one had mentioned Robards. 

“Get away from them,” she seethed, not looking anywhere but ahead when people rushed up to her.

She knew exactly where she was going. Muggles of all ages were meant to be taken elsewhere in the Ministry, and if they were injured, there was a special wing of St Mungo’s. But she knew they were safe enough that she could bring straight them to the person they needed. Not the place decided by aging parchments decrees. 

Someone ran past her, ducking down into the corridor she was heading for, and she knew then the news had spread. That no one doubted whose children these were. That it was with good reason no one had asked where Dawlish was.

Robards came running down the corridor a moment later, flanked by Moody and Kingsley, and stopped when he laid eyes on Tonks who then came to a halt. She had seen Robards after missions which still haunted her nightmares. After trips to the Wizengamot and Azkaban for verdicts which brought no one back to life. She had never seen him so contorted by pain as he looked back and forth between the baby and the toddler. The toddler started to cry, a wail which pierced the noise and rendered an uncomfortable silence within the corridor until the smack of boots came closer as someone ran towards them.

The toddler, arm outstretched, made even more desperate cries and Tonks turned her head to see Savage stop beside her, handing the dusty rabbit to the toddler who grabbed it and immediately curled up against Tonks. The baby began to grizzle and pawed at Tonks’s robes.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” said Moody, quietly. “Proudfoot, tell the searchers that the missing are all accounted for.”

“Yes, Sir,” said Proudfoot, running off back down the corridor.

There were sharp quick footsteps coming from another direction.

“How did you get out?” asked Kingsley. “The cottage is nothing but rubble now.”

“Portkey,” said Tonks.

“You managed to make a Portkey without anyone noticing?” asked Moody.

There was a weight in the silent moments which grew heavier with each breath Robards took. It was as if they were caught in the moment after the Portkey activated and before it pulled away.

“It was a ready made Portkey,” said Tonks. “Sir.”

Scrimgeour appeared around the corner, neat robes in violent contrast to his wild hair and beard. “What’s this about ready made Portkeys?” 

Robards spun around, grabbed Scrimgeour by the lapels of his robes and pushed him up against the wall. Scrimgeour reached for his wand but no one else had reached for theirs. 

“What’s got into you?” said Scrimgeour, looking around frantically and pushing back against Robards with both hands. His feet no longer touched the ground and Robard’s red face was an inch from his. 

“Death Eaters found his sister,” said Moody. “Only Tonks and the children survived.”

“Because she had a Portkey,” spat Robards, as though grief was strangling him, desperate not to let the words be free. “If you even think of disciplining her, Rufus, I swear it will be the last thing you do.”

Scrimgeour seemed at last to look at Tonks properly. “Who was Tonks’s partner for—”

“Dawlish,” said Tonks, her voice catching.

Robards turned to look at her, his grip on Scrimgeour slipping. Scrimgeour’s boots met the marble with a soft scuff and his hands went to Robards’s shoulders.

Tonks swallowed and tasted blood again. “They forced a Floo connection. Dawlish held them off for as long as he could.”

Robards pushed Scrimgeour back against the wall. “Rufus—” he snarled, agony tearing the anger down to desperation.

“Gawain, there will be no disciplinary action,” said Scrimgeour, with a hint of irritation. “I just—I didn’t know your family was—come here, Tonks.”

She had been still so long that it was as though she was turning to stone. Robards glanced at her, and she could see his eyes shining, the semblance of control already shattered and simply waiting to fall. Savage stayed at her side as she walked over. Scrimgeour gently turned so that Robards was almost leaning against him. He stroked the baby’s cheek with his scarred fingers then carefully lifted them from Tonks’s arm.

“Hello,” said Scrimgeour, softly, finding the comfortable hold for the baby in both his arms. “Savage, take the toddler, please.”

Savage nodded, then carefully moved around Tonks and lifted up the toddler. They held them in both arms and leaned close to Tonks to press their forehead against hers for a moment. 

“Mama,” said the toddler, looking around the corridor. “Mama, mama, mama!”

Tonks stumbled back against the wall, her hands going to her mouth. Kingsley came over and pulled her into his arms. The weight of her world had changed, the pain handed over to Robards. And at last, he broke. Scrimgeour let Robards collapse against him, and he caught the attention of a healer, then inclined his head down the corridor. The baby’s cries turned to wails.

“Gawain,” said Scrimgeour, nudging Robards with his elbow. “Gawain, a corridor is not the place to do this. Come on, let’s go find one of the debrief rooms.” He looked over to Moody. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Moody nodded.

With a healer helping hold Robards up, Scrimgeour and Savage followed him down the corridor. 

“Back to work,” barked Moody, and the remaining people hanging around scattered. He stomped over to Tonks and Kingsley.

As if through layers of armour, she could feel Kingsley stroking her back as she laid her cheek against his shoulder.

“I only got them out because of Severus,” she whispered. 

“He got you out of there, too, lass,” said Moody, searching her face.

“I’m meant to be dead,” she said, frantically, raising her head and looking at Moody, “and I’ve just stormed in here—”

“I’ve got contingency plans,” he said. “Not just a pretty face, you know.”

“But—Voldemort—Severus—”

“Severus has been doing this for a while,” said Kingsley. “There’s an Order meeting starting in an hour or so, and once we talk to him, we’ll know better how to proceed to protect everyone.”

“Snape gave you the Portkey, didn’t he?” asked Moody. Tonks’s head darted up and Moody smiled gently. “Lass, I’m the one who gave you the order to hand over your Portkeys, and you’re the only one who gave them up immediately.”

“Because you—”

“Did Snape give you the Portkey?” repeated Moody.

Tonks nodded.

“Don’t tell anyone else that, you hear me?” He lifted her chin with a calloused finger. “I know you’ll tell Savage, but that’s a given. I want your word you won’t tell anyone else, not even in the Order.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

Kingsley held her closer and she grasped his thick robes more tightly.

“Snape will give Dumbledore a full account, but other than that, no one else needs to know.” Moody rubbed his jaw. “It’s been a night of attacks, though yours was shorter than usual. The Muggle police and fire service got to the ruins quicker than they normally do.”

“Dolohov and Rabastan wanted to get back,” she said, quietly.

“Aye,” said Moody. “That tallies.”

“Proudfoot and a few of the others said they heard Death Eaters talking about celebrations planned for later tonight,” said Kingsley. “It might be that there’s enough being reported of all the attacks in the Prophet tomorrow that no one looks too hard at what happened with you.”

“And Snape can fend for himself,” said Moody. “Gawain will make sure those children are kept hidden and safe. They could have survived any attack. The Prophet’s going to report that the whole family died and I’ll see that, at the very least, there’s considerable confusion as to the outcome here. You’re usually with Savage, which will help, and no one outside the Auror Office knows about the Portkey order.”

“Severus knows,” said Tonks. “That’s why he gave me the Portkey, he thought I had one and I—”

“All right.” Moody adjusted his magical eye and Kingsley grimaced. “Aside from Snape, no one else knows. And I appreciate he’s in the Order, Tonks, but mind what you say around him.”

“I—”

“It was a high pressure moment,” said Moody. “Am nae doubting that, lass, but unless you’re at each other’s throats, I want you to just—to—”

“Be careful,” said Kingsley, looking at Moody. “And remember Dumbledore trusts him.”

Moody rolled both eyes. 

Tonks’s knees gave and Kingsley caught her, pulling her back up. She grappled for his robes.

“You’ve had a night of it,” said Kingsley, quietly. 

“You can rest soon,” said Moody. “Look, I need to find whoever’s on liaison duty tonight and see they’re set to go to Dawlish’s family. Then we’ve got the Order meeting. After that, you can get to your bed.”

They all turned to look down the corridor at the sound of heavy footsteps coming towards them. Savage was walking slowly, rubbing their neck, and staring at the floor.

“I’ll go to Grimmauld Place with Savage,” said Tonks, before stumbling out of Kingsley’s arms.

At the sound of running, Savage looked up and Tonks flung her arms around them. The two Aurors swayed on the spot, holding each other tightly.

“Don’t hang around,” called Moody.

“They need this, Ali,” said Kingsley.

“It could have been either of them.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s what they’re thinking.”

Still in his Death Eater robes, Snape stood in the parlour of Grimmauld Place. He’d cleaned up as best he could, but somehow the smell of dust still clung to him. His mask was tucked inside a pocket but there was no getting away from how the slight differences in the dark swathes of fabric rendered him the enemy. People kept a wide path when walking past him. 

He knew Dumbledore was to spend the evening at Grimmauld Place due to Order business and a meeting which required his attention, so when Snape was given early leave from Malfoy Manor because he was teaching first thing in the morning, he came straight to the wretched townhouse. Dumbledore’s grave expression had changed little while they spoke in the warded privacy of the library.

The parlour was almost full and Savage jumped up when Moody and Kingsley came in with Dumbledore.

“Where’s Tonks?” asked Savage.

“Blast it,” said Moody. “She said she was coming here with you.”

“She told me she was meeting up with you back at the Ministry and—” Savage swore, drew their wand, and several people were startled until they saw the dragon Patronus being hurled with frightening force through the room.

Remus was all but pinning Sirius down where he sat. 

Savage stood with their chest heaving, staring at the windows which were covered in heavy green velvet drapes. All eyes were on them, except for when people glanced at the clock. The minutes passed and Savage was running their hands through their hair while Kingsley stood behind them, both his hands on their shoulders. A badger of mist came scampering through the window and wound around Savage’s ankles.

“Safe,” came Tonks’s voice from the mist. “Promise.”

Kingsley nudged Savage and they turned around, gripping his robes while their haggard breaths were stifled when they buried their face in his shoulder. He gave hushed reassurances and rubbed their back.

“What on earth has happened?” piped up someone from the back of the room.

“One of their colleagues died in an attack,” said Moody. “Think very carefully if you plan to criticise how my Aurors deal with that news.”

An awkward apology was blurted out and Moody grunted expletives under his breath. 

“Alastor.” Dumbledore hadn’t raised his voice but Moody looked around and gave the smallest nod.

"Someone died?" ventured Remus. He was standing behind the sofa Sirius was sitting in, his hands still firmly on Sirius’s shoulders.

"I could only help Tonks and the children get out," said Snape, looking up.

People turned to look at Snape, their revulsion undisguised. Few had seen a Death Eater up close. Fewer still had seen them when they weren’t in the midst of fight or flight. The darkness trapped in his robes and cloak drew gazes up and down his body. He wanted to be away from the Order, the townhouse, the night. He leant back, pressing himself against the wall even as the dado rail dug into him. Gloved fingers pushing into the damask wallpaper. Boots meeting the skirting board.

"Who was her partner?" asked Remus.

“Dawlish,” said Moody. 

A whimper came from Savage.

“All right, I’m taking Savage back to their parents,” said Kingsley, patting Savage on the back and guiding them towards the door. “I think it’s safest I Side-Along you home.”

Savage nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

There were unimpressed noises from a few people at the back of the room.

Moody looked around the room. He was all but snarling. “Merlin forbid the Aurors putting their lives on the line for you are humans.”

“Alastor,” said Dumbledore, raising his voice.

“It’s been a long night for everyone,” said Kingsley, holding the door to the parlour open. Savage had their arms wrapped around themself and Kingsley stroked their back again. He waited until Moody was looking at him. “I’ll see you back at home.”

“Don’t rush,” said Moody, looking at Savage. “I’ll be checking in with Andromeda and Ted before I’m back anyway.”

The parlour door closed and Sirius managed to shrug out of Remus’s grip and start making his way across the room towards Snape. 

“Tonks was in the house which got demolished, wasn’t she?” said Sirius. He turned to Moody. “She was, wasn’t she.”

“Several houses were subject to Bombardas tonight,” said Moody.

“You blew up a house around her,” Sirius bellowed at Snape.

“And those Bombardas broke the wards which let her get out of there,” said Snape.

“She could have been killed because of you.”

“It’s because of me that she’s alive.”

“Kids orphaned.” Sirius looked Snape up and down, unaware of Remus standing just behind him. “How can you sleep at night?”

“Do you really think you can stop the Dark Lord with your grandstanding?” sneered Snape. “Nothing’s changed, has it? All swagger and no action.”

Sirius lunged at Snape and Moody barged in between them. Remus put his arms around Sirius.

“They could all have been alive if you’d given some warning,” shouted Sirius.

Sirius didn’t notice Dumbledore coming over, though Snape could see him from the corner of his eye, though in that moment his heart was pounding and he’d had enough. Sirius in his face, barely inches away. Tonks with children in her arms and at the mercy of Death Eaters. The wretched townhouse and the Order’s judgemental gaze.

“I didn’t know!” said Snape. “The Dark Lord does not divulge all his plans. I knew the location of this one only when the Floo Network was broken into, and it’s not as if the Auror Office weren’t aware, the family were under protection for Merlin’s sake.”

There was no time. 

It seemed there was never time these days. 

Dumbledore put his hands on Sirius and Snape’s shoulders. His touch was gentle, unlike Moody who was pushing against Sirius and only managing to stop him from barrelling forward.

“Enough,” said Dumbledore. “It has been a terrible night, let us not make it worse.”

“Sir, do you not think—” said Sirius.

“That is enough, Sirius,” said Dumbledore. “You won’t bring back the dead by yelling.” He gave the slightest nudge and Sirius seemed to topple back into Remus’s embrace. Dumbledore turned to Snape. “You ought to go and rest. You’re teaching in a few hours.”

Snape nodded, pushing past Moody and sweeping from the room as Sirius started protesting about having a Death Eater in the Order. His words echoed down the hallway of Grimmauld Place and it was almost as great a relief Disapparating from the townhouse as from Malfoy Manor.

Snape Apparated a few minutes walk away from where he was heading. The streets were littered with moonlight in between the cobbles where rain from earlier in the night had settled. Walking beneath broken street lamps and past burned out cars, there was little noise but for traffic in the distance. He pulled up the hood of his robes to better ward against the cold. 

The terraced house on the corner of Spinner’s End came into view. As if the shadows had fled in a hurry and forgotten one of their fellows, there was a crumpled black heap on the doorstep.

He stepped from the pavement and onto the cobbles.

“It’s me,” he called, quietly.

The crumpled shadow moved and unveiled itself while barreling across the street and into his arms.

“You’re alive,” said Tonks, slamming into him.

Her arms around his neck, his arms around her body, they held each other like the night was threatening to steal one of them away. 

“So are you,” he said, gruffly.

“I stormed into the Ministry, Severus—I didn’t think—the children—Voldemort—”

“The celebrations were rowdy and no one much cared,” he said. It was sport as much as terror and vengeance. Tonks’s breaths became more ragged and all he could think was that she was still breathing. “No one wanted to admit they might not have checked their kills but there’s no doubting it was still a night of carnage.”

“Moody—Moody said that you can fend for yourself.”

Snape gave a bitter laugh. It was common knowledge that Moody didn’t trust him. 

The night was forcing itself through her veins. Each explosion still reverberating in her bones. Muscles aching with the weight of the children though she’d handed them over hours ago. 

He grasped her robes in one hand, the other moving up her body. Her hair falling past his hand on her neck. His cheek against hers. The sharp smell of dust and destruction still clinging to her, her pulse racing beneath his touch.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting—I just—I—” 

“Just hiding out for the fun of it?” 

“Something like that.” As if autumn had blown a kiss, the lightest breeze caressed her, undoing the ribbons of holding out for him that had been holding her together. And she finally broke.

She sagged in his arms and for one moment—a fraction of eternity he never wanted to revisit—he wondered if someone had cast an Avada at her. She gasped for breath as he lifted her up, his arms sweeping around her back and under her knees. 

Turning her face to his Death Eater robes, she grasped the fabric which ought to have been a warning and let him carry her to the door with fading green paint which was flaking off in patches.

He lowered her gently to the ground and she took one of his hands in hers as he dealt with the wards. The door swung open. Once inside, he checked the wards then she started walking down the hallway. He followed her but put his other arm around her waist and stopped her before she could go up the stairs. She leant back against him and closed her eyes. Every few seconds a sob would force its way out of her body. Wretched sounds as if a curse had been placed on her.

“One step at a time,” he said, in a moment of quiet. “I’m here.”

She nodded and sniffed, then another sob came so hard she thought she was going to vomit. Her eyes were burning. Tears and dust streaking down her cheeks. She pulled the sleeve of her robes over her hand and wiped her face. Hand wrapped around the bannister, she took each step slowly, missing once and stumbling into the wall. He pushed her upright without losing his balance. He squeezed her hand and she carried on, her cloak sweeping over the wood with an unnerving heavy scrape that belonged in a bigger space.

On the landing, she froze. 

“The nursery was moved,” she said. “I couldn’t find the baby because Dawlish just said to get the kids and get out and so I ran to the nursery because I didn’t think I needed to do a Homenum Revelio and the baby wasn’t there.”

“You still got both the children out.”

“I could have been faster, I—I—”

“You wouldn’t have been able to save their mother or Dawlish.”

“Smiling ghosts.” The words were followed by a scream and she would have doubled over if it wasn’t for his arms around her. “Smiling ghosts.” She hated that he was the only one who would be completely honest with her. Who wouldn’t hide the truth in amongst possibilities which could never have been.

“There was no warning,” he said. 

Staggering, she spun around in his embrace. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t think you were hiding anything.” Her hands on his shoulders, there was little other than the glint in his dark eyes visible, the shadows uncomfortably close to them. His hands settled on her waist. Her hands tracing over his robes, up his neck to take his face in her hands, she rested her forehead against his. “I trust you.” This time the tears fell without the violent shocks through her body and she was able to feel his breaths which were too measured and steady. “I trust you.”

He said nothing. Because the only words ready to fall from his lips were, “You shouldn’t.”

When she took her hands from him to wipe her cheeks, he led her through to the bedroom. The curtains weren’t drawn and moonlight tumbled through the condensation on the window to dance lazily across the old wallpaper. There was a clock which hung above the chest of drawers.

“It’s November 1st,” said Tonks, in a hushed whisper, as Snape crossed the room to glance out the window and close the curtains.

How could so many hours have passed? How could it be more than minutes since she and Dawlish followed the family through the village? Under the cover of Disillusionment Charms though they would have blended in with their long cloaks and robes. Even their wands wouldn’t have caused suspicion, other than to look like cheap imitations of the ones children ran around with. Children shrieking made up spells while buttons and batteries gave them blasts of light as they skipped through gardens with pumpkin shaped baskets. As supermarket vampires and sewing box ghouls ran down the lanes. 

The crunch of gravel beneath their boots as the Aurors paced. The silence which didn’t sit properly around the cottage. The barriers between worlds thinner on Halloween, the bitter air slipped around their ankles as if afraid of what lingered in the dark. The ash fell around them and the night crashed down on her. Every cry heard and silenced. Each wriggle. The changing weight. The smash of the Bombardas. And the sleepsuits covered in smiling ghosts.

Tonks staggered and fell onto the bed, drenched in the screams she couldn’t tell apart from her memory and her own mouth. Snape climbed onto the bed and lay beside her. Her body against the mattress, she grasped the duvet and felt his hand on her back through her robes and cloak. The smallest anchor of his touch which she knew she would be lost without. How could she need to gasp for breath when she was able to exhale screams that must be heard streets away? Pain came in waves which reached further each time like the tide coming in. Each breath bringing the agony deeper. Even as her throat was being torn apart, she knew she would have to put herself back together, and she tried to find her anchor. Tried to find her way around her body again. Fighting against her cloak and the notion of which way was up, she turned so that she was facing Snape.

He pushed her hair out of her face and she grappled with his robes to make certain she was holding onto him if she fell asleep. When she fell asleep. She knew it would happen. It didn’t matter how much terror was racing through her, how much death she had witnessed, sleep would always find a way to claim her. Sometimes with kindness, sometimes with cruelty. Eventually, always without choice.

He murmured her name as she opened her eyes and found his dark gaze. His arms around her, they lay in damp and dusty cloaks and robes. With each rise and fall of her body against his, he was pulled back to the Galleon like the memory was a Portkey. She was prepared to fight even as she held a baby in her arms, then she was looking for a way out that would protect him, too. She was alive and he knew from her agony that he wasn’t dreaming. She was alive and he knew the war would be waiting for them in the morning. He cast a warming charm around them both then held her closer.


End file.
